


Phil Coulson's CBC Radio 2 Playlist

by raiining



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fanmix, Get Together, Happy Tower Time AU, M/M, Multi, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson has never enjoyed the radio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I started collecting these songs in June, assembled the playlist, and then somehow wrote a fic about them. 
> 
> All songs are available on iTunes, but can also be listened to free of charge on YouTube. 
> 
>  
> 
> (and yes - CBC Radio 2 is a real station, and Rich Terfry really does command the airwaves in the afternoon on "Radio 2 Drive". Check out his blog and his "junk in the trunk" feature; you'll find I wasn't lying about the cats. And yes, I know Tom Power doesn't have much of an accent. Phil is just that good *g*)
> 
> Edited by the fantastic the_wordbutler. THANK YOU!! All mistakes left are mine.

Phil Coulson has never enjoyed the radio.

He is not the kind of man who keeps a radio at his desk. It would be impossible within the concrete walls of S.H.I.E.L.D., of course, but he knew agents who kept a radio app on their phone or listened via the internet. When he had been a junior agent (a long time ago), Thursday afternoons would be paperwork time. Phil would sit with a few other juniors and together they would work on their files. Agent Mendez would always bring a radio (they worked above ground in those days) and she would play it at low volume while they sat together and tried to figure out the complexities of the A4-D form.

Mendez went on to work in R&D after exposure to an alien life form on a routine training mission left her with super-grade intelligence in the manufacturing of carbon-molecules and associated polymer. Phil passes her new office occasionally, and she still plays the radio often.

Phil does not.

He doesn’t enjoy low background noise. Every change of tempo or start of a new song captures his attention, and while Phil can multitask with the best of them, he doesn’t enjoy it. He prefers to pursue one problem at a time, methodically working his way from a list of A through Z, until he finishes and can start on the next issue. He is aware this makes him anal-retentive, but he doesn’t care. He likes to keep things organized.

He does enjoy music, but he doesn’t listen to it often. When he (rarely) puts on a CD, it’s always an old favourite. Some Beatles, some Stones. He likes rock in all its forms, and he enjoys the classics. He also likes knowing the lyrics and knowing which song follows which. He never plays things on random.

(Barton thinks it’s hilarious to try and hit the randomize button his car stereo, and counts it a victory whenever he can do so without Phil noticing. He claims it makes Phil’s eye twitch, and Barton is approximately seven years old, so that’s high humour to him)

When he wakes up in an unfamiliar hospital room, then, three months and sixteen days after the Battle of New York (going by the erasable marker on the whiteboard hanging by his bed) one of the first things he notices is the radio.

It’s on.

Phil blinks at it. 

To be fair, he also notices the whiteboard (his nurse today is apparently “Sarah”), the IV line in his left elbow, the catheter in his dick, and the dryness in his mouth. There are fifteen objects within grabbing distance he could use as a weapon if he needed to, but the persistent ache in his chest tells him he’d better not if he has any choice in the matter.

A nurse comes in after a few minutes, and a doctor after that, and Phil learns that it’s more like three months and eighteen days after the Battle of New York (the whiteboard is a little behind the times) and that he has been in a coma for much of that period. Apparently, his survival is due to three surgeries, an experimental procedure they call XX42, and his own particular brand of stubbornness. 

Now that he is awake, they will begin rehabilitation and physiotherapy, and no, he can’t go back to work or call anybody.

Apparently, no one knows he is alive.

Well, _Fury_ knows, but he’s decided to keep that little tidbit to himself for reasons Phil can’t understand right now. They tell him that the Avengers are all fine, Barton is back on their side (Phil thinks he keeps his face impassive at that, but the heart monitor betrays him), and everyone is living together at Stark Tower. 

He can’t have a cell phone.

But his real name is on his patient ID and they promise to get the cable set up in his room. Phil lets the medical staff go and tells himself it’s only a matter of time before somebody finds him and breaks him out.

He ignores that it’s been three months already and no one has.

They have to be looking. Barton and Romanov know Fury is a lying liar who lies and have told him so on multiple occasions. They wouldn’t give up without seeing his body. Phil turns back to the window half-convinced he will see Barton peering in around the curtains.

He doesn’t.

Well, it’s only a matter of time, Phil’s sure of it. In the meantime he can spend a creative couple of hours working through exactly what he is going to say to the Director (he’s going for rational and really fucking pissed; that’s about how he’s feeling right now), and he will ask someone to turn off the radio.

Phil falls asleep before he can buzz for his nurse, though. He’s sure he’ll get to it tomorrow.

 

*

 

Tomorrow, there is still no Barton and no Romanov. Phil is a little upset about that, but he’s too weak to swipe the nurse’s ID badge and commandeer himself a cell phone, so there isn’t much he can do about it.

The cable isn’t connected yet, but the radio is still on. Despite his best intentions, Phil finds himself listening to it. It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time (Phil blames the morphine they’ve restarted now that he’s awake and moving enough to pull on his healing chest wound) to realize there is something off about the DJ.

His accent is bothering Phil. It is something he’s heard before but not in a long while, and not something connected to a mission. 

It comes clear in the memory of a tiny station wagon, a chorus of “are we there yet”s and the beaching of a whale. 

The DJ is from Newfoundland.

Phil listens for another ten minutes and realizes that’s because the DJ is working for the CBC. The radio is set to a Canadian station.

Phil wonders how far up New York State Fury has stashed him that he’s able to get Canadian broadcasts. The thought leads him into a panic about New York, the number of casualties, and how far from downtown the hospitals had been stretched to capacity. By the time the nurse arrives, gives him the bare statistics, and promises to bring him the evening papers – and whatever back issues she can find – Phil has forgotten about the radio again.

He spends the next week or so catching up, starting physical therapy (even sitting at the side of his bed feels like an accomplishment; “That’s because it _is_ ,” PT tells him), and eating progressively more solid food. By then he’s sort of gotten used to the radio, and decides to stop asking the nurse to change the station.

She never does, anyway. It’s like a Canadian _conspiracy_.

He tells himself that when he can walk across the room to change it himself, he’ll be strong enough to break out of the hospital.

(This might be a lie. But he’ll be strong enough to steal a cell phone, at least. No one who comes into his room has been carrying one, and Phil’s checked.)

The radio station is apparently CBC Radio 2. Canada has a CBC Radio 1 that is mostly the news, the charge nurse tells him (she’s the ex-Canuck who’s subverted her team into Canadiana), and Phil has to admit it’s nice not to have any commercials. The news comes on every hour on the hour, and that’s nice too, even if, after ten a.m., it’s usually repeats until three or four.

It’s Canadian-based news, but they still do a lot of coverage of American politics and the ongoing clean-up in New York. Phil learns more details there than from the newspaper, sometimes. Most of the hosts – they aren’t DJ’s anymore, apparently, Phil feels old – talk information tidbits, too. They spend half the show discussing what’s amusing or interesting throughout the day.

Phil quickly develops his favourites. Tom Power in the morning is okay (he’s the Newfoundlander), but he prefers the woman who sometimes comes in to cover for him. Nine o’clock until one o’clock is all classical, which was embarrassing at first because it made Phil think of that ridiculous rumour that got out of hand, but it’s relaxing, too.

Phil likes to come back after sweating his way through physio and nap to Mozart’s concerto. There is jazz after eight at night, and Phil’s never been a fan of jazz, but he learns to get used to it while he drifts off to sleep.

His favourite program, however, quickly becomes Radio 2 Drive. It plays from three-thirty in the afternoon until seven in the evening and it’s hosted by a man Phil decides can never, ever be introduced to Clint Barton. Rich Terfry is much too amused by video clips of cats playing with dustpans to be introduced to _any_ of the Avengers, actually. 

He does seem to enjoy the superhero team a lot, though, and Phil learns that any spontaneous appearances by one of the team (around New York or anywhere) will be discussed on the show. Rich seems to keep track of the Avengers and likes to post pictures of Tony Stark buzzing around Stark Tower or Steve Rogers working at clean up, on his “junk in the trunk” blog feature.

Phil has ever seen his blog, of course, because _no one will give him a cell phone_ (this is really starting to piss him off, his rant to Fury is about four pages long now), but he appreciates the man’s enthusiasm.

As time goes on and no one appears to rescue him (Phil can only walk half-way to the radio without assistance now, so he can’t break himself out just yet) Phil even starts to appreciate the music.

It’s still annoying to not be able to predict what song is going to come on next, and there are tunes that get played over and over again for reasons Phil cannot understand. But, against his will and his better judgement, Phil starts to develop some favourites.

There are even a few that, when they come on, make him stop and just _listen_ until the song ends. This is a new experience for him.

Most of these songs, the ones that he memorizes the names of, remind him of specific people. Some he could almost swear had been written for the Avenger he is thinking of, and others simply evoke the feeling of the person. Most inspire thoughts Phil has never tried to rationalize out loud before. 

When he is (eventually) rescued, Phil uses his new StarkPhone to download most of them. This is his playlist.


	2. “It’s All Okay” by Julia Stone

Link via iTunes: [It's All Okay - By the Horns](https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/its-all-okay/id513473168?i=513473291&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=v-luwfQOyPA

 

Phil almost cries the first time he hears this song.

In his defence, the doctors had recently decreased his morphine, and Phil had just come back from physiotherapy. Physiotherapy _hurt_ goddammit. PT usually came for him around ten in the morning, but his surgeon had interrupted to have a look at Phil’s scar and poke at it for a while. Phil doesn’t like to have his schedule interrupted (and he really didn’t like his scar to be poked at) so he had been a little short with the man. Physio didn’t come back until after three, which meant Phil missed his afternoon nap. He didn’t want to admit that he was cranky, sore, and tired, but he _was_.

He got back to his room and couldn’t even collapse on the bed because it still took two people to help him stand from the wheelchair and pivot. When he finally had gotten tucked in under the covers Phil’s level of frustration had already reached Stark proportions.

And then the song came on.

The achingly powerful melody almost did what eight days in a broken body, a bedpan, and complete isolation from the outside world beyond the ludicrously low-technology radio (they still hadn’t set up his cable, and Phil had given up asking) had not: it almost broke his self-control.

Phil had not cried. Not about Barton, not about the Avengers, not about himself. He would not let himself cry, because the moment he started he knew, he would not be able to stop. He still expected someone to show up any minute and rescue him, and he would not be wiping his face if they did. 

So Phil did not cry. But he did breathe a lot through his mouth and blink heavily a few times while he lost himself in the lyrics, because they were _beautiful_.

 

_The story is different now the records are playing in the living room_   
_And you might say you're wounded, and I might say_   
_I'm hurt but we knew the difference then between the fire and the earth_   
_And we may say we're broken, we may say we're weak,_   
_But we knew before we started oh the secrets we would keep_

 

Phil doesn’t want to think about Barton. He doesn’t want to think about Romanov, Stark, or Banner. He does not want the lyrics to call to mind the Captain, or even Thor. But they _do_. 

Phil knows the Avengers can be strong and _are_ strong together. He knows – he has _faith_ – that they can work together to rise above their differences.

They already have.

He’s almost recovered enough from the melody and the first verse to get a handle on himself, but then the chorus comes on and Phil has to duck his head under the blankets and pray this isn’t the moment he gets rescued because he would _never live it down_. 

 

_And it's all ok, cause love will find a way to be what love is_   
_And it's all ok cause love will find a way to be what love is_

 

That’s all Phil gets out of the song that first time around. He breathes through the tears that want to bubble up, the horrible-wonderful surge of _hope_ the song gives him, and doesn’t catch the rest of it. But Rich Terfry is an evil, sadistic man, and someone on the Radio 2 program loves this song, because they play it again the next day, and Phil catches the rest of what he missed before.

 

_I'll move to the country, and live inside the deepest, darkest woods_   
_And I'll write you a letter and tell you all of the things I should say to your face_   
_And I won't send it to you, I'll send it to your mother's place_   
_And she won't give it to you, that's how brave I'll grow here in my cave_

 

Phil thinks of Rogers at that verse, living inside the ice, and wonders (not for the first time) what Peggy Carter thought of him after he died and what she would think of him now. He knows the phone number of her retirement home, but he’s never going to call her. Phil doesn’t have that right. 

(He carefully does _not_ think about Barton, about all the things he should say to his face, and the way he can’t, not now, not after everything that’s happened. He carefully does not think about how this hospital room feels like his cave, because he won’t grow brave here, Phil knows. He will never be brave about this.)

 

_And it's all ok cause love will find a way to be what love is_   
_And it's all ok cause love will find a way to be what love is_

 

The chorus nearly does him every time, and it takes four or five repetitions before Phil has developed some kind of immunity to it. 

 

_And you'll move to the city, marry a pretty girl_   
_And she will make you smile all the while you'll be looking for what you left behind_   
_And she will bring you children and oh how you will love them with that heart of yours_   
_I won't visit you I'll know by then the kinder thing to do_

 

The last verse makes him think of Stark and Pepper, and the loving, teasing looks he remembers passing between them that night he interrupted to bring Stark the files. Phil had been low in the depths of his own personal hell by then, with Barton’s fate and the word “compromised” banging against his skull. But the sweet concern on Pepper’s face and the rugged appreciation on Stark’s had … helped a little. Provided a balm, at least, for the fear and uncertainty he had felt.

 

_Oh it's all ok cause love will find a way to be where love is_   
_And it's all ok cause love will find a way to be what love is_   
_And it's all ok cause love will find a way to be what love is_   
_And it's all ok cause love will find a way to be what love is_

_The story is different now the records are playing in the living room_

 

The story is different. Phil hides in his hospital room and pretends that it’s not, but it is. Everything is different now. The Avengers are public, Fury is never going to release him from this hell, Romanov and Barton are never going to rescue him. He has left the world, and the world keeps turning. 

He wonders if this was how Rogers felt when he woke up. He doesn’t envy the man.

(They do rescue him, of course. It just takes longer than Phil thought it would.)


	3. “The Dozens” by Amelia Curran

Link via iTunes: [The Dozens - Hunter, Hunter](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/the-dozens/id327811226?i=327811299&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=XgnItSFdn00

 

The first time Phil hears this song, he is halfway to his room after a morning of (still painful) physiotherapy. Hearing it echo around the corner, he hurries, thinking that now, finally, Natasha has come to rescue him. 

The song is so perfect for her, the teasing, sultry tones, that Phil is honestly shocked when he turns into his room and finds the bed as empty as usual.

He checks the bathroom, just in case. There is no one there.

The crushing disappointment distracts him and he misses most of the lyrics. The next time he hears it, Phil is lying on his bed and reading through the evening paper. He is frustrated and sore, because he had tried to swipe the lunch lady’s cell phone when she delivered his dinner, and she had evaded him with a laugh. 

It hadn’t been good for his self-esteem.

This time, Phil is able to put the paper down and just _listen_ for a while. By the time the song is over, he is smiling again. It’s good to think of Nastasha the way the song evokes her – beautiful and deadly, a spider in her web, leaving lovers and enemies in her wake.

It is not an inaccurate picture.

 

_All my lovers think I’m lovely in the morning_   
_When I wake_   
_When I roll in folds of slumber_   
_When I caress I give and take_

_All my enemies are just like me_   
_They’re afraid of this mistake_   
_Abandoning of deities_   
_The slow and extent of state_

_Let the bakers have their dozens_   
_Let the coppers get their man_   
_Let doctor, lawyer, fix it for you_   
_Catch her if they can_

_Oh when all the stars in heaven_   
_Cannot count me alone_   
_For I’m a lovers enemy_   
_And I can’t be counted on_

_All my lovers, under cover of night wrestle with their wounds_   
_They’re pawing sores of piety_   
_Their kissing pleasures bloom_   
_All my enemies are ready for a drink or two to spite_   
_They’re praying for forgiveness and their ready for a fight_

_Let the bakers have their dozens_   
_Let the coppers get their man_   
_Let doctor, lawyer, fix it for you_   
_Catch her if they can_

_Oh when all the stars in heaven_   
_Cannot count me alone_   
_For I’m a lovers enemy_   
_And I can’t be counted on_

_All my lovers, love me tirelessly, they listen and they see_   
_They work the web of time itself to fall and capture me_   
_All my enemies they envy every move I’ve ever made_   
_The tireless love I gather even rains on my parade_

_Let the bakers have their dozens_   
_Let the coppers get their man_   
_Let doctor, lawyer, fix it for you_   
_Catch her if they can_

_Oh when all the stars in heaven_   
_Cannot count me alone_   
_For I’m a lovers enemy_   
_And I can’t be counted on_

 

Phil doesn’t often think of what Natasha’s handle means. She had come to S.H.I.E.L.D. with the title and argued to keep it, against Fury’s wishes. Phil hadn’t seen a reason to push for change – the Black Widow had a reputation, and S.H.I.E.L.D. could benefit from the world learning she was on their side, now.

It took a few years, longer than Phil is proud enough to admit, before he understood that her name was a _title_ , more than it was a handle to use during an op. The term “Black Widow” was something Natasha had _earned_ , and it was not something she was prepared to give up. 

Phil knows that some people at S.H.I.E.L.D. are still frightened of her. They see her as a weapon, one that used to work for the Red Room and now works for them. They don’t know how Phil can trust her.

But to Phil, Natasha is more the image the song conjures of her – a lover’s enemy. She is beautiful danger, a smile in the darkness, a knife at close range. She is one of the few completely honest people Phil knows, for all that she lies like an art form when she’s on the job.

The song claims someone like Natasha can’t be counted on, but Phil knows better. Natasha can be counted on to do what is best for her and the very few people she has accepted into her fold. Everyone else is fair game, and rightly so.

(Phil had thought he was one of those precious few, but she hasn’t come for him yet. He doesn’t know what to make of that.)


	4. “No Good Woman” by Elise LeGrow

Link on iTunes: [No Good Woman - Single - Elise LeGrow](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/no-good-woman-single/id487682765?uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=Rp8p0KPon4g

 

It is past week three by the time Phil finally gets his hands on a cell phone.

He is now able to get out of bed on his own, stand for a couple of seconds, and walk across the room to the radio. Mostly. He has to use a walker, which makes him feel about eighty years old, but he can do it.

It takes him another two days to steal a cell phone. In the end, he’s forced to feign a weak spell and con a passing janitor into helping him back to bed. He lifts the phone from the man as he gently guides Phil back to his room. Phil would feel bad about that, but the mission has been accomplished and its results that matter, in the field.

Holding the phone in bed, Phil closes his eyes against the rush of panic in his chest. Who is he going to call?

He can’t contact anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D., because Fury hasn’t come by to explain himself and Phil doesn’t feel strong enough to go through his six-page rant quite yet. Barton has never had a permanent cell phone, just burner phones he uses on missions, and Phil has no way of knowing if that’s changed in the past four months. Ditto for Romanov. He is aware that Banner carries a spare cell on him at all times, but he doesn’t know the rotating number. He’s sure someone has explained the concept of cell phones to Rogers and Thor by now, but he’s not going to find them in the white pages.

That leaves Stark.

Phil takes a deep breath, lets it out again, and dials Stark Tower.

The public number puts him through to reception. Phil had written down Stark’s personal cell, but he does not have eidetic memory and he’s been through a rather lot in the past few months. In the end he can’t recall if its 4740, or 4770, or 4407. He’s afraid to try too many wrong numbers and be caught before he can get in touch with somebody who will fly a jet to wherever-the-hell-he-is and rescue him.

Reception at Stark Tower isn’t impressed when he asks to speak to Tony Stark, so he requests to be redirected to Miss Potts. He gets put through to her personal receptionist, and thankfully Marisa remembers him well enough to interrupt a meeting Phil’s sure is more important than Marisa is making it sound. 

Pepper doesn’t believe him at first. It hurts, but Phil understands. Nick Fury is a terrible human being, and Phil might decide never to forgive him. He makes a mental note to design personal identification codes for every member of the Avengers and their support staff (he includes Pepper on that list) in case this ever happens again. As it is, Phil spends three minutes repeating their last conversation (as painful as it was, Pepper had never believed him about the cellist) before Pepper believes him. 

She goes quiet on the line, and Phil thinks for a moment that she’s hung up on him in disgust. But then she says, “Oh god, _Phil_ ,” and calls Stark. 

Stark is in his lab. Phil thinks he may have to call back later, but Pepper must say something. Maybe she says that it’s important, or maybe she gives him a heads-up that it’s Phil. Either way, a moment later, the man himself is on the phone. Stark’s voice, when he speaks, is so quiet, so easily broken, that Phil has to clear his throat before he can answer.

“Agent?” Stark says.

“That’s not actually my first name,” Phil replies.

Stark laughs and sounds like maybe he’s about to cry. He says he’s going to get Banner and that they’ll triangulate the signal and be there within the hour. Phil thinks about reminding him to keep this quiet from S.H.I.E.L.D., but Stark has never been a fan of keeping anyone in the loop, let alone Fury. He doesn’t think he’ll start now.

Phil hangs up once Stark says they’ve located the signal, even though he kind of wants to let the man talk for a while. The weeks of loneliness must have gotten to him, because even Stark’s inane babble had brought a smile to his lips. As it is, Phil would like a little time to get presentable before the Avengers show up.

He is standing awkwardly by his bed and pulling on a set of track pants the PT staff had given him to use when he complained about the lack of privacy afford by hospital gowns, when the radio catches his attention. Rich announces a song that his listeners are “sure to remember” and claims that no one can hear it without singing along. Phil does not sing along – he has a terrible voice, more than one person has told him – and yet he has to admit that by the time the song is over, he is humming along to the chorus.

He doesn’t think of the song again until the Avengers have rescued him (Stark doesn’t tear down the hospital wall, but it feels like a near thing) and set him up in Stark Tower. Living with the Avengers is … an experience. Stark still starts every time he sees Phil without a suit on, which is pretty much every day for the first month because Phil is sweating his way through physiotherapy with the small army of medical staff Stark has acquired for his recovery. 

It takes time, but he slowly learns the rhythms of this place. The others had been living together for some weeks, already, with Thor coming and going from Asgard and New Mexico as required. They already understand that when Stark has a pad in his hand, nothing except Roger’s full-volume “Avengers Assemble” can rouse him. Banner likes to stand by the window, just in case he needs a quick exit, and Romanov avoids them all. 

Barton, for his part, practically lives in the ventilation ducts, though Natasha tells him he was doing better before Phil came back. He feels guilty about that, but Natasha frowns and says it’s just Clint being a child. That doesn’t actually help anything, but Phil knows Barton’s got more than one reason to be angry at him right now, so he doesn’t push it.

Rogers is still a thrill to live with, and Phil doesn’t think that particular high is going to go away. He doesn’t want it to, because the giddy feeling of drinking coffee with Steve Rogers on a Sunday morning? That is never _supposed_ to get old.

There is a tension going on under the surface, however, that takes Phil a while to catch on to. When he does finally identify the snippy push-push-pull that characterizes most of Stark and Rogers’ interactions, he has to laugh. That’s honestly not something he ever saw coming. 

He isn’t the only one, either. Stark seems to end most of their subtle fights by heading down to his lab and banging things together. Rogers cleans the kitchen with a sort of focused intensity, and the rest of them back away. Only Pepper is brave enough to step in the middle of that, and Phil has no desire to.

He can’t help but ask JARVIS to pull up his playlist when he gets back to his room the afternoon he finally figures it out, though. He might even share this song with the others, one day, if he can figure out which of the two men – or two men and a woman, because he’s not counting Pepper out yet – he should send it to.

 

_When all I do is love you_   
_I wonder why you’re so scared to_   
_My broken heart is a gold mine_   
_I’ll save my shine for another guy_

_No good woman would wait for you (surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise)_   
_No good woman would stay the fool (and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry)_   
_One-way train, yeah I’m on my way_   
_I’m so gone as of yesterday_   
_No good woman could ever do (goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)_

_You’re beggin’ me for the last time_   
_Oh baby please, with those same lines_   
_I fell for you but I don’t crawl_   
_You gave it up when you had it all_

_No good woman would wait for you (surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise)_   
_No good woman would stay the fool (and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry)_   
_One-way train, yeah I’m on my way_   
_I’m so gone as of yesterday_   
_No good woman could ever do (goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)_

_You used to be so sweet, and I was on my knees_   
_But even at your feet, I was above your bleeding heart apologies_   
_No good woman would wait for you (surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise)_   
_No good woman would stay the fool (and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry)_

_One-way train, yeah I’m on my way_   
_I’m so gone as of yesterday_   
_No good woman could ever do (goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)_   
_(no good woman)_

_N-n-n-n-no good woman could ever do_   
_(no, no good woman)_   
_N-n-n-n-no good woman could ever do_   
_(no good woman)_   
_N-n-n-n-no good woman could ever do_   
_(no, no good woman)_

_Could ever do for you_   
_(no good woman)_   
_Could ever do for you_   
_(no, no good woman)_   
_Could ever do for you_   
_(no good woman)_   
_Could ever do for you_   
_(no, no good woman)_

 

(Phil keeps telling himself the song reminds him of Tony, Pepper, and Rogers every time he hears it, and resolutely does _not_ think about the way Barton stares at him when he thinks Phil isn’t looking. Phil knows he isn’t a good woman, and he’s not waiting for Barton, not anymore. But sometimes, when he is weak, Phil will remember that one kiss they shared in New Mexico. It was soft and sweet and so full of promise that it hurts his chest to think of it. Instead, he forces himself to remember the way Barton’s eyes had gone wide and scared midway through, even though _he’s_ the one who stepped forward to kiss Phil and not the other way around. He remembers how Barton had run. Phil had known better than to chase him. 

He’s not still waiting, after that. 

He’s not.

Except he kind of is.)


	5. “1904” by The Tallest Man on Earth

Link on iTunes: [1904 - There's No Leaving Now](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/1904/id528293241?i=528293313&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=ibEwxlV1ac4

 

Fury finally does come to apologize.

Well, first he comes to yell at Phil, but since Phil has been settled into Stark Tower by Stark himself and is surrounded by five glaring Avengers (Thor is still in Asgard), even Fury seems to back off. 

A little.

He is still pretty pissed that Phil went against orders and contacted the team, but as his reasons for keeping them in the dark seem to be centered around the World Security Council, Phil is not particularly upset about being written up for this. 

The World Security Council is a bunch of assholes. Phil has the properly-filed paperwork to support this decision.

Phil doesn’t give Fury his seven-page rant yet, because he doesn’t want to pass out in the middle of it, but he does play this song a lot the day Fury stomps out of the Tower. 

This song, when he first heard it in that hospital bed, had reminded him of Rogers. It seems to be about a man out of time and thinking back to the past, when they “shook the earth in 1904”. 

He had memorized the name and artist on that basis, but the more he listened to it the more he realized he had absolutely _no idea_ what the song was about. There is a level of misdirection and structured confusion to the song that reminded Phil of his boss, and after that every time he hears the song all he can think about is Fury. 

When he is feeling healthy enough for it, Phil corners Nick in his office and given him the eight-page rant in a calm and even tone. He doesn’t get an apology, because Nick _never_ apologizes, but he does get assigned permanent liaison to the Avengers Initiative. Phil can’t decide if this is Nick’s unique way of saying sorry or not, but he’ll take it anyway.

Things between them are strained, though. Finally, after two weeks of stilted silences and terse emails, Phil sends the Director a copy of this CD. Nick is a friend, after all, and Phil knows he was just trying to protect him. But Phil has chosen his way forward from this, and he’s not leaving the Avengers behind again.

 

_Well some may say it's not even funny_   
_And there you stand not even trying_   
_They say it is in line with the angel_   
_Sometimes noise is just your mind_

_But the lesson is vague in the light now_   
_Shows a dear with her mind on the moor_   
_And I'll something with the sun is just a friend_   
_Since they shook the earth in 1904_

_And as I lowered down I hear it's a message_   
_And it's 1902 just telling people to get out_   
_And if there was just a way I could tell them_   
_It's been long but you are right_

_And the singing is slow and so quiet_   
_Like the sound when you sleep off the floor_   
_And I'll something with the dirt is just a friend_   
_Since they shook the earth in 1904_

_And when the night is young with the bridge is sung_   
_Something passing by I was sure_   
_And the only one you can tell it to_   
_Well it's the only one that ever knows_

_And since more robbers made to go through my window_   
_Here is something so strange and something louder than before_   
_And you living with no light or direction_   
_But temper size and now you know_

_When believing is hard but you go now_   
_And you feel what you drag across the floor_   
_Because something with these drills are just a friend_   
_Since they shook the earth in 1904_

_And when the night is young but the bridge is sung_   
_Something passing by I was sure_   
_And the only one you will tell it to_   
_Well it's the only one who will ever know_

_And some will say it's not even healthy_   
_But body is young and mind is sure_   
_That something is alright well you're thinking_   
_Cause they shook the earth in 1904_

 

Fury sends him a signed copy of a Beatles poster in return, which Phil collects with slightly less intensity than his Captain America memorabilia. When they meet again a week later, Phil gives his boss a nod, and Fury grins at him. 

They’re going to be okay.

 

(Phil refuses to admit he plays this song at night sometimes, when it’s dark and he can’t sleep. He doesn’t go over the lyrics line by line, and doesn’t obsess about the “but body is young, and mind is sure” bits. Because thinking of Barton at night is never a good idea, so Phil doesn’t do it.

Really.)


	6. “Love Don’t Let Me Down” by Liam Titcomb

Link on iTunes: [Love Don't Let Me Down - Cicada](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/love-dont-let-me-down/id533575814?i=533575995&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=7dPb2Zn6puU

 

Phil’s going to be out of the field for another three months, at least. 

That is a very quick recovery time. He tries to focus on this instead of the way his days seem to stretch out in front of him. Stark’s top-of-the-line physiotherapists (they probably make the same amount in one session that Phil’s initial PT team made in a month; he feels guilty about that, but he has to admit he likes these ones better) are excellent. He sweats more in PT than he used to on the practice mat.

But there are still long periods of his day in which he has nothing to do.

He’s bored.

It takes a week, but Phil finally bullies Fury into assigning him paperwork, and within a month he’s making occasional day trips into S.H.I.E.L.D. It gives him something to do, but Phil still spends most of his time wandering around Stark Tower. 

The others are in and out as time and inclination demand. He’s been here for weeks already, but Phil’s still learning the rhythms of this place. He tries not to worry when Stark vanishes for days into his lab and has JARVIS shuttle down his meals. Rogers is still doing some occasional sight-seeing and often travels out of town. Natasha is working out her own wanderlust and Fury has put her back on short, single-agent op’s as a sort of vacation. 

Thor, for his part, is attempting to convince Jane to move to New York. Phil is currently working on the (long overdue) paperwork to requisition an additional security clearance for her, adding her name to the top of the list for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s new Deep Space Telemetry program. He’s not sure yet if she’ll accept, but he hope she does. She’s a brilliant physicist, and Thor gets cranky when he’s away from her for too long.

A cranky Thor is Not A Good Thing.

Barton still won’t spend more than five minutes in a room with him, if he can help it. Phil tries not to think about that.

Banner, though, Banner is the enigma. 

He’s read the man’s file, of course, but after working at S.H.I.E.L.D. for twenty years, and more than half of that with Barton and Romanov, Phil knows that even the most complete file can miss a lot of the big picture. 

Phil knows there had been bets made at S.H.I.E.L.D. about how long Banner would stick around if the Avengers Initiative went ahead. He hadn’t put any favours (S.H.I.E.L.D. agents don’t bet with money) on the propositions, but he had wondered if the man would start to itch again for the open road. Even now that he’s here, living in the Tower and working with the top notch R&D program Stark has put together, Phil isn’t sure if it’s going to be enough.

Some days, Phil thinks, watching Banner in the lab Tony has built for him, it seems like it is, and some days – the days when Banner does a lot of meditation and yoga – it does not.

The man seems to be waiting for something; for someone to decide that they’re scared of him, maybe. Natasha’s acceptance, especially, seems to have thrown him for a loop. Phil has read and re-read her report of her confrontation with the Hulk on the Helicarrier enough times to know where she stands on the matter, but it seems Banner himself is unconvinced.

He’s waiting, Phil decides, for the Avengers to let him down. He’s biding his time until S.H.I.E.L.D. decides he’s too much a security breach and tries to throw him to the Vault, or for someone, Natasha maybe, to attempt to kill him in his sleep.

It doesn’t take long to track this song down. Phil had memorized the title and artist name while laying in his hospital bed, listening to Rich Terfry wax poetically about the Hulk doing cleanup duty in New York and Dr. Banner sheepishly waving to crowds after a Doombot attack. He’d played this song soon after the clip of the Hulk, and Phil had lain in bed and listened to the words and the casually upbeat melody, and wondered if he should look into Rich’s security clearance.

 

_Standing at the crossroads_   
_Feels like a halfway house_   
_Crawling out of my skin_   
_There’s only one way out_   
_Only one way out_

_Love don’t let me down_   
_Love don’t let me down_   
_Love don’t let me down_   
_Oh I’m counting on your love, right now_

_Something about your face_   
_Helps me keep my faith_   
_I get so tired of carrying this weight_   
_Gotta let it all go before it gets too late_

_Love don’t let me down_   
_Love don’t let me down_   
_Love don’t let me down_   
_Oh I’m counting on your love, right now_

_Maybe I got nothing’ to lose_   
_I got nothing but time_   
_Maybe I don’t wanna miss you_   
_Maybe I wanna give it one more try_

_Love don’t let me down_   
_Love don’t let me down_   
_Love don’t let me down_   
_Oh I’m counting on your love, right now_

_I’m counting on your love, right now_   
_Right now, right now_   
_I’m counting on your love, right now_   
_Right now, right now_

 

Phil isn’t sure if Banner would appreciate the song, but he feels it’s apt. He thinks, late at night, the radio playing low because he’s gotten used to it now, that the song could describe all of them. Natasha’s connections with the team are more fragile than they appear, and Rogers has already lost too much. Stark is the one trying to keep this strange, dysfunctional family together, and Thor just desperately wants for this all to work out. Phil thinks they’re all counting on love not to let them down. 

And so far, it hasn’t. 

(Except for Barton. He will eat with the team at meals, but disappear into the ductwork the instant Phil appears. Phil tries not to let that hurt as much as it does.)


	7. “If I Wanted Someone” by Dawes

Link on iTunes: [If I Wanted Someone - Nothing Is Wrong](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/if-i-wanted-someone/id439076932?i=439076943&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=mXuu4MRVfAg

 

Phil doesn’t want to, but he thinks about Steve Rogers when he hears this song.

He _wants_ to think about Tony Stark. The song should fit him perfectly, all those lines about money and “find myself a maid”. But it doesn’t. For all of Stark’s quirks, the man is very good at communicating. He doesn’t hide nearly so much from the team as he seems to wish he could, sometimes, and everyone has quickly learned to give him what he needs. Sometimes that’s space, sometimes that’s company, and it’s actually fairly easy to determine which it is at any given time of the day.

Phil wonders if that’s why Stark lived alone for so long: when people are around him for any length of time, he’s frightfully easy to understand.

No, Tony Stark is the simple one. It’s Steve Rogers that everyone is having problems adjusting to.

The problem is that Rogers is remarkably _easy_ to live with. He’s clean, he’s courteous, he always picks up after himself, and he never leaves dirty clothes in the living room. He chides them all into behaving and though he might not always wear the uniform, he’s always the team leader. 

But that’s the problem. There’s a distance to Rogers that is hard for them to breach.

Everyone has tried. Stark invites him to spar with the armour and designs punching bags that last for more than five minutes in the ring. Banner chats with him while they both chop vegetables, and they talk about places in the world they've seen. Thor, when he is around, is loud in a way that covers all of Roger’s silences, and they can talk about the nonsensical colloquialisms everyone seems to use nowadays. Even Natasha seems to have made an effort, patiently teaching Rogers the basics of Russian when he had hesitantly come to her to ask. 

Phil has heard that Barton and Rogers spar together. He has no direct proof of this.

Phil, having studied the man closely (it’s not fanboying if it’s for the greater good, Phil tells himself), thinks these efforts are admirable. But it’s clear to him there is no easy solution. Rogers is a man out of time. The world has changed, and all his friends are dead. That is not something he is going to get over, or even process, for a very long time. Possibly ever. He is always going to be a man who grew up in the 1930s and ‘40s. He will never understand the world he lives in today the way his teammates do.

But the only way Rogers is going to accept this world is to live in it. Developing friendships with the people he is going to lead into battle, well, that’s the first step.

Still, the song is achingly appropriate, for all that it’s sort of depressing. Phil hopes it gets better soon, and he has faith that it will. But it’s going to take time, and Phil knows there’s no way to rush that kind of healing.

 

_Like the memory from your mother's house from before you got too old_   
_Like the feeling from a photograph before it's meanings all got told_   
_The words I say can be silver, but what's left unsaid can be gold_   
_So get to know me once I go away_

_Maybe 'cause I come from such an empty-hearted town_   
_Or maybe 'cause some love of mine had really let me down_   
_But the only time I am lonely is when others are around_   
_I just never end up knowing what to say_

_If I wanted someone to clean me up, I'd find myself a maid_   
_If I wanted someone to spend my money, I wouldn't need to get paid_   
_If I wanted someone to understand me, I'd have so much more to say_   
_I want you to make the days move easy_

_I took everything I thought from what it means to be a man_   
_We need words to be put to what we do not understand_   
_While you lean into the echoes and you do not raise a hand_   
_Oh woman, help me see it like it is_

_If I wanted someone to clean me up, I'd find myself a maid_   
_If I wanted someone to spend my money, I wouldn't need to get paid_   
_If I wanted someone to understand me, I'd have so much more to say_   
_I want you to make the days move easy_

_If I wanted someone to clean me up, I'd find myself a maid_   
_If I wanted someone to spend my money, I wouldn't need to get paid_   
_If I wanted someone to cut me down, I'd have handed you the blade_   
_I want you to make the days move easy_   
_I just want you to make the days move easy_

 

(He doesn’t think the song applies to himself, no matter what Natasha may hint with her raised eyebrow and skeptical look. Phil wonders if he has given away too much with his new addiction to the CBC. JARVIS plays it often in the Tower, now, and Phil has his own selections he’ll listen to at night in his room. Stark had made some comments about how Phil, with his careful politeness, was of course a hidden Canadian. Phil hadn’t made any move to correct him, because Phil knows the moment he gives an inch, Stark will have invaded his small hometown, dug up his school pictures, and probably found out the name of his kindergarten teacher. He doesn’t need to live with that.

Still, just because Phil believes in professional conduct and distance with his charges, doesn’t mean he’s at the level of intervention needed for Steve Rogers. He’s their handler, after all. Trying to be anything more will simply end in disaster.

This situation with Barton has taught him that.)


	8. “Sold” by Dan Mangan

Link on iTunes: [Sold - Nice, Nice, Very Nice](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/sold/id319139886?i=319140004&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=kFQDoMWep4A

 

Aside from the first, this is Phil’s favourite song.

He knows that’s because it’s about Barton. He’s given up lying to himself about that.

The first time Phil had heard it, he had gotten angry. He wondered for a brief moment if S.H.I.E.L.D. documents had been stolen, or if someone had talked. Except it wouldn’t make sense for someone to pull off that kind of theft just to write a song about one of their (most incredible) specialists.

Still, the song had knocked the breath out of him. He’d been doing physiotherapy at the Tower, working on his chest exercises, and listening to the CBC. Phil had gotten into the habit of listening to the radio while he recovered, and JARVIS didn’t seem to mind. Phil had been carefully stretching his injured left side, and had stopped, shocked, when the words began to register.

 

_I thought the suits had come for me_   
_Found alternatives to honesty_   
_Body and soul were bought and sold_   
_Patented and out of reach_

_So I reach but it hurts, it kills, it screams,_   
_And it fills my heart with chills_   
_And I take my pills_   
_But I'm still tired of sleeping with the light on_

_But if it keeps the hair out of my eyes_   
_Pack it up and send it home_   
_For just one stab at the good life_   
_That's enough and I'm sold_

_So I gave up all my wretched thoughts_   
_And left them out for the less fortunate_   
_And at the gates I'll skip the queue_   
_Life's not living 'less you're sure to make it through_

_But now it hurts, it kills, it screams,_   
_And it fills my heart with chills_   
_And I take my pills_   
_But I'm still tired of sleeping with the light on_

_But if it keeps the hair out of my eyes_   
_Pack it up and send it home_   
_For just one stab at the good life_   
_That's enough and I'm sold_   
_Lord, I'm sold_   
_Go on pack me up, I'm sold_

_Go on pack me up, I'm sold_   
_Go on pack me up, I'm sold_   
_Go on pack me up, I'm sold_   
_Go on pack me up, I'm sold_   
_Go on pack me up, I'm sold_   
_Pack me up, I'm sold_

_If it keeps the hair out of my eyes_   
_Pack it up and send it home_   
_For just one stab at the good life_   
_That's enough and I'm sold_

 

Phil knows Clint has trouble sleeping unless the lights are on. The man has a tendency towards hyper-vigilance and a disturbing trend towards self-destruction. But what the song really reminds him of is the day Phil first brought him in.

He had been chasing a series of criminals around Barcelona, a group of Very Bad Men with links to HYDRA. Phil had finally tracked the individuals to an abandoned warehouse and led a S.H.I.E.L.D. team inside. They went in hot, knowing the men had guns and would be wearing body armour. Phil had been focused, expecting a fire fight, but to his surprise had found everyone already dead. Phil checked them all personally. Each had been killed by a precise arrow shot, most often into eyes and jugulars. There had been six targets – only one had moved fast enough to reach his sidearm, and he hadn’t had time to draw before being taken down.

S.H.I.E.L.D. suspected a team of archers had been involved, but Phil had had a hunch this had been the work of one supremely talented individual. He calculated angles and trajectories, and convinced Fury to give him a team and some time. 

It had taken months and more lose ends that Phil had been comfortable with, but he had finally tracked his mysterious archer to South America. Phil made his presence known and waited at a neutral location. It was Barton who found him. 

Phil had kept his gun at his side when Barton appeared, even though Fury had been spitting curses at him through his comm. He took one look at the man who had evaded him for months, and made the offer of employment in the calmest voice he could muster. 

Barton had shrugged, dropped his bow and asked “So you’ll pay me, give me equipment, and let me do what I’m good at? Sure. Whatever keeps the hair out of my eyes.”

Phil had accepted the man’s word and left his gun in its holster. It had taken years for him to realize that when Barton went that loose and unconcerned, he was really at his most prepared to run. He shutters to think what would have happened if he had done anything other than believe him.

He thinks Barton would have run. Phil’s still not sure if he could have tracked him a second time. 

Things worked out, but now, listening to the words of the song, Phil is reminded of how Barton looked that day. With the years of experience he has now in reading his most valuable asset, Phil knows that what he took for casual acceptance was really a wary kind of hope, and Barton’s “whatever keeps the hair out of my eyes” was actually a “for just one stab at the good life”.

And the thing is, Phil’s seen that look on Barton’s face again, lately. That wary hope, masked as sarcastic unconcern. 

He knows he’s going to have to address it, soon.

He’s just not sure how to begin.


	9. “Stare Into the Sun” by Graffiti6

Link on iTunes: [Stare Into the Sun - Colours](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/stare-into-the-sun/id494668674?i=494668677&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=myBUgWO_BWw

 

Phil knows he has a terrible singing voice, but for some reason that doesn’t seem to stop him with this song. It’s so fun and catchy that even he, with his horrible attempt at harmonizing, can do a decent version in the shower. 

It’s another song that he’d heard for the first time since coming to the Tower, and he likes to queue it up on good days when the sun is shining. Even if it does bear a depressing similarity to his own life, that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the beat. 

 

_Stare into the sun_   
_Stare into the sun_

_I'm gonna stare into the sun_   
_Stare into the sun (sun, sun, sun)_

_There ain't a cloud in the sky, no nothing_   
_I see the birds they fly high, on something_   
_It's the summer, it's the summer, full of color baby_

_The sun is shining down for lovers_   
_but not for me it shines for others_   
_you gave me love babe, gave me love babe now it's over_

_I'm feelin blue 'cause love is gone_   
_Guess i lose but life goes on_

_Got a few tears to dry_   
_Before these blue shade days are gone_   
_And I can stare into the sun_

_I'm gonna swim in seas of green, i tell you_   
_I'm gonna run like i'm 17, forever_

_I see a rainbow purple and gold but it’s covered_   
_Oh yeah cause there’s a cloud she follows me ‘round wherever_   
_Her last words keep raining down on shelter_   
_You took your love babe took your love babe_   
_And now the colors all melt together_

_I’m feeling blue 'cause love is gone_   
_Guess I lose but life goes on_   
_Got a few tears to dry_   
_Before these blue shade days are gone and I can stare_   
_into the sun_

_Stare into the sun stare into the sun I’m gonna stare_   
_into the sun stare into the sun_

_You gave me love babe gave me love babe you gave me_  
 _love then took it away_  
 _You gave me love babe gave me love babe you gave me_   
_love then took it away_  
 _You gave me love babe gave me love baby you gave me_  
 _love and took it away_  
 _You gave me love babe gave me love baby oooooohhh man I_  
 _said oooohhh lordy_

_I’m feeling blue 'cause love is gone_   
_Guess I lose but life goes on_   
_Got a few tears to dry_   
_Before these blue shade days are gone and I can stare_   
_into the sun_   
_Before these blue shade days are gone and I can stare_   
_into the sun_

_I’ve got a fever baby….your love_   
_I’ve got a fever baby….it’s your love_   
_I said I’m blue baby I said I’m blue baby_   
_I said I’m blue baby blue baby I said I’m blue baby_

_I’m crying out late now sun is gone_   
_I’m crying out late now sun is gone_   
_I need your love I need your love_   
_Do you see me baby on the street_   
_And I’m her king to her heat_   
_And I love babe something more I need your love_

 

The situation with Barton has not improved. Phil has tried giving him space and seeking him out. The others have even stepped into help, a little. Natasha drags Barton to common meals now, the three or four times a week they manage to have them. Stark “accidentally” managed to get them locked in a closet together for three hours. Rogers has even tried calling Phil down to the gym while he and Barton are sparring.

Nothing has worked. Barton refuses to talk to him, and Phil has quietly asked the others to stop forcing the issue. He’s reluctantly decided that Barton will come to him when he is ready to grant Phil forgiveness, and Phil is going to have to accept that.

Of course, Barton decides he’s ready to talk at the moment Phil is least prepared for it. He’s spent the past few weeks going over what he needs to say to Barton and what he’s prepared to apologize for. The list is quite extensive, but he thinks it’s fair. He runs over the words in his mind between other thoughts (and, okay, maybe he obsesses about it a little) and refines what he’s going to say.

The day Barton appears in his ceiling, its four o’clock in the afternoon on a random Wednesday, and this song is playing. Phil is standing in his kitchen, barefoot, trying to peel a potato. It should not be difficult, but potatoes? Are kind of slippery when they are half-peeled and his shoulder still sometimes hurts more than it should. Phil knows he should not be attacking vegetables, but he has got another two weeks of enforced medical leave, and he’s got to do something productive or he’ll scream.

The potato is really hard to hold onto, though, and Phil slips with the peeler. It doesn’t help that he’s singing out loud, and his attention a little divided. When the blade cuts into his wrist, Phil doesn’t cry out at the sharp, sudden pain – but he does stop singing. 

There’s a sudden mad scramble from his ceiling that has him looking up, and then Clint is there, standing in his kitchen. Phil stares at him. Barton won’t meet his eyes, but his face is worried and tight, and he’s grabbing at Phil’s hand. Phil hadn’t realized that he’s dripping blood onto the floor, but he doesn’t care.

Clint has not stood this close to him since the disastrous kissing incident, and Phil did not know that Clint was in his ceiling.

Phil _always_ knows when Clint is in his ceiling. It’s a point of pride, for him. He has to wonder how many other things he’s been missing over the past few weeks.

“How long have you been up there?” Phil asks, because he is honestly curious. Clint doesn’t even bother looking up at him, just drags Phil to the sink to wash his wrist. 

“A while,” Barton says, and then, before Phil can respond to that, “Jesus, how deep did you slice this?”

Phil shrugs, then winces because Barton is still holding his wrist under the tap and the movement pulls at his shoulder. Clint shoots him an apologetic glance but doesn’t let go of him. Phil peers over to see the line of red still flowing into the sink.

The cut’s not actually that deep, and it’s more of a scrape than a slice, but it’s bleeding steadily.

“It’ll be fine,” Phil says, more calm than he feels, because Barton touching him has increased his heart rate to at least 120, 130 by now. Phil’s glad he’s no longer hooked onto cardiac monitors. “I have a first aid kit above the fridge.”

Barton’s face is almost in profile, the way they are turned towards the sink, and Phil can see him roll his eyes. “I know,” Barton says, and Phil nods because, yes, that is where he always puts the first aid kit in a safe house. 

“Keep it under the tap,” Barton orders, and it should be hilarious that he’s giving Phil first aid because Barton has never listened to a doctor in his life, but Phil does as he’s told. Clint leaves him to take the three steps to the fridge and retrieve the first aid kit, and then returns to slap a gauze bandage onto Phil’s wrist before letting him turn off the sink.

“What did you think you were doing, peeling potatoes when your shoulder was still fucked up? You should have gotten Banner to do it.” Clint’s voice is tight and strained, and Phil looks over at him in concern. His expression is giving nothing away, though, except for the fact that Phil is an idiot.

“The point wasn’t actually the potatoes,” he admits, letting Clint peel away the wet gauze and replace it with a fresh dry piece. “I was trying to learn how to cook.”

That gets him a look. His face is tired, but there is a smile at the corner of Clint’s eyes. “You don’t cook.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware of that. I figured now was the time to learn, since I don’t actually need to feed myself to survive.” He shrugs and says, around his embarrassment, “I’m going out of my mind with boredom, here. I had to do something different.”

Something in Clint’s expression shuts down at that, and he turns back to Phil’s wrist. He removes the gauze and applies some polysporin while Phil frowns at him, wondering what he did wrong.

“Clint?” he asks, hesitantly, because it can’t hurt to try.

Clint’s shoulder’s hunch for a moment before they forcibly relax, and he asks, fake-casual, “Why didn’t you just fly to Portland, then, like Tony is always offering?”

Phil stares at him. Clint puts on a fresh bandage and tapes the edges to his wrist. “Portland?” Phil asks.

Clint shrugs, like the answer means nothing to him. “Yeah, you know. To visit her – the cellist. You were singing about the ‘sun being gone’ and all. I figure you miss her.”

Phil can’t believe this. He thought Clint understood. “What? No. Clint – there was never a cellist.”

Clint stops fussing with his bandage and looks up at him. “What?”

Phil holds his gaze. “There was never a cellist. I –” He blushes, “That ridiculous rumour got out of hand. There was never a cellist.” He stares at him. “I thought you knew that.”

Clint looks so confused that Phil takes pity on him. He sighs, turns away from the kitchen and the now-bloody potatoes, and walks over to the couch. He sits down and waits for Clint to follow him. It takes a moment, but he does.

“Listen,” Phil says, trying to sound logical about this and not as embarrassed as he feels. “I had a wedding to go to, years ago, for my sister. You’ve never met her, but – let’s just summarize and say that she’s evil. Truly, inherently evil. She never let me forget that I’m older than her and still single. So on the eve of her wedding, I did something many other, more foolish men have done, and made up a fake girlfriend. I told my sister I was dating a cellist.”

Clint is staring at him from the other end of the couch. He is sitting as far away from Phil as he can and still be on the same piece of furniture. “You made up a fake girlfriend? So you didn’t have to bring a date to your sister’s wedding?”

“Yes,” Phil agrees, then puts up a forestalling hand. “In my defence, I was younger and more stupid, and I thought it would get her off my back.”

Clint looks like he’s having trouble believing him. “So how did this develop into a S.H.I.E.L.D.-wide rumour?”

Phil sighs and vows, once again, to destroy Jasper. Slowly. With soda straws. “Because I made another poor decision, and asked Agent Sitwell to help me establish a cover story for my fake girlfriend.”

Clint stares at him, and then bites his lip. Phil realizes that he’s laughing. “You – Sitwell?”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yes. Mary Jovial has a driver’s license, a social security number, and a photograph in a high school yearbook. To be fair, we were drunk at the time, and Jasper was keeping me company in the airport until my flight arrived.”

Clint is still staring at him. “Oh my god,” he finally says, and looks like he wants to laugh for about a half a second, until his eyes widen and he sits up straight. “Wait. Does that mean that, all this time, you _haven’t_ had a girlfriend?”

Phil looks at him patiently. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Then, it’s his turn to stop and think for a moment, before he sits up and stares at Clint. “Wait, is that what this has been about? You thought I had a girlfriend?”

Clint blushes and avoids Phil’s eyes. “Well, yes. I mean, I’m still pretty pissed at you for dying, and me for letting you die, but – yeah.” He swallows and meets Phil’s eyes. “I thought you had a girlfriend.”

Phil stares at him a moment, and then clenches his hands into fists at his side. “I am going to kill Jasper,” he says savagely. He points a finger at Clint. “You can help.”

Clint smirks at him and slides closer. He takes the hand Phil is pointing at him, and squeezes it, then brings it to his mouth and gently kisses the knuckles. Phil is glad he’s sitting down right now, because his knees feel weak.

“Okay,” Clint agrees, and then they don’t talk, for a while.

 

(Phil will admit, much later, that he chose a cellist in the airport that day because he was thinking of Clint, beautiful Clint, and he couldn’t say “archer”. Sitwell holding that over his head has been the only reason Phil has yet to get revenge for the entire scenario, and it’s a situation he and Clint rectify as soon as possible. Jasper wakes up a week later to find his entire apartment has been painted purple while he slept, and he has to move for two weeks while he gets everything he owns professionally dry-cleaned. The pictures of his face have been deeply satisfying.)


	10. “Bells & Whistles” by Steph MacPherson

Link on iTunes: [Bells & Whistles - Bells & Whistles](https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/bells-whistles/id514765786?i=514765973&uo=4)

Link on YouTube: http://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=fsFvhj8rWGk

 

Life gets better, after that. 

Stark Tower is still the Avengers’ headquarters, but it’s getting to be home, too. Stark, Pepper, and Rogers fall into some sort of pattern the rest of them try not to know the details of. Bruce looks more comfortable, and Natasha does, as well. Thor finally convinces Jane to move to New York and walks around with _literal_ sunbeams lighting up his smile for a few weeks. Phil knows he doesn’t have a song to describe the God of Thunder, but then he doesn’t think he needs one. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, maybe, or “Ride the Lightning”. Phil can’t decide. 

Things between him and Clint are good. They are better than good, most days, but they are worse, some others. Clint wasn’t kidding when he said he still hadn’t forgiven Phil for dying on him, and Phil wishes Clint had come looking for him a lot sooner. Clint feels guilty for Loki, and Phil feels guilty for dying, and that is a lot to work through. It takes time.

But they have each other, and they have the Avengers, too. 

Phil still likes to play the CBC in the Tower, but he has a new favourite song to listen to in the evenings, now. He’d heard this one weeks ago, but it resonates more than it used to. It’s not a straight path, this road they’ve chosen, and they might be lost if they walked it alone.

But they aren’t alone, and they aren’t lost either. They’re together, all of them, and it’s working. 

It’s working just fine. 

 

_This is not a straight path_   
_There are bends along the way that I can't see past_   
_Oh, and there are potholes_   
_You could see all the way to China through the asphalt_

_In our own imaginations_   
_We're the kings and queens of nations_   
_We are not_   
_We are not_   
_Now for all the bells and whistles blown_   
_In sight of all the great unknown_   
_We're lost. We're lost..._   
_We are..._

_Just out of my sight-line_   
_There's an image, hanging static by the roadside_   
_Warning, honey, turn back_   
_Oh, the odds are all in order_   
_It's a tall stack._

_In our own imaginations_   
_We're the kings and queens of nations_   
_We are not_   
_We are not_   
_Now for all the bells and whistles blown_   
_In sight of all the great unknown_   
_We're lost. We're lost..._   
_We are..._

_Oh and one day_   
_You'll be in the right place_   
_Say all the right words_   
_Feel like you've been heard_   
_Oh and baby_   
_We won't let it change things_   
_Or direct us blindly_   
_Won't let it..._

_In our own imaginations_   
_We're the kings and queens of nations_   
_We are not_   
_We are not_   
_Now for all the bells and whistles blown_   
_In sight of all the great unknown_   
_We're lost. We're lost..._   
_We are..._

**Author's Note:**

> And we're done!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting! And, yes, "Deep Space Telemetry" is a wink to Stargate Command. I couldn’t resist *g*


End file.
